


To Serve Man

by sinforserotonin



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cannibalism, Dark Will Graham, Drug Use, Eventual Relationships, Fetish, Gay Sex, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Master/Pet, Murder, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29798784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinforserotonin/pseuds/sinforserotonin
Summary: Hannibal Lecter has long since been a member of the Esteemed Art of Taste, an elite club dedicated to the finer things in life - gourmet dinners, professional mixers, cruises, the like; but the club harbors more than its fair share of dark secrets. Newbie cop Will Graham is accepted in, under the guise of being Lecter's protégé; but the lines between job and pleasure become blurred when Will comes to realize just how much he enjoys being spoiled - and punished.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 25





	1. Well Behaved

The tension in the room was palpable at 8 o'clock that night; in a few short minutes Dr. Lecter would be there, expensive suit in hand for Will to wear for the evening, to take on the guise of a lifestyle many aspire to have, but rarely achieve. And by god, was he nervous. Hands trembling, he whipped out his phone and punched the number into the screen almost hard enough to make the display fizzle. "Will? Is Dr. Lecter there with you?" Jack asked. "N-no, not yet. He should be here any minute, though. Just nervous and needed some guidance, I guess," Will said, trying his best to disallow any wavering in his voice. Jack chuckled on the other side, and the pleasant sound made him relax his shoulders some. "Will, I know you're nervous being the new kid and all, but you've got a case tons of other cops would kill to have," he said, "getting to enjoy the life of luxury none of us would ever have, eh? Besides, Dr. Lecter will be escorting you the entire evening. He's worked with our department for as long as I can remember; you're in good hands Graham, truly." Will nodded as if the other man could see, and let out a small sigh. "Yeah, I know, I know. But...what if they don't buy it? The whole 'mightier than thou' persona coming from a guy who lives in a cabin full of stray dogs?" - he grinned and shushed the dogs, who whined at being acknowledged - "Not sure how well that'll go over." There was creaking and shuffling on the other side for a second, and Will assumed Jack had crossed his legs on his desk, a sure sign he wasn't nearly as concerned as him. "Graham. Will. I mean this in the best way possible. With how intelligent you are, I don't think coming across as an arrogant dick will be that hard," Jack said, eliciting a grin from the other man, "you'll be fine. Y'know, as long as you don't start talking about making fishing lures or working for the force. That'd be the quickest way to earn the ire of any rich bastard." Will laughed at that. No fishing, no job related stuff. He could lie about that.

His eyes flickered to the window, a sharp light cutting into the dim cabin, tires crunching gravel as an unmistakably elegant car pulled to his porch. "Hey Jack? Lecter's here. I'll have to let you go." He hung up and shoved the phone haphazardly into one of the pockets of his ripped jeans, nearly tripping over his own feet to answer the door. The sight of a strange man walking up the porch stairs sent the dogs into a frenzy, and Hannibal watched amusedly as the brunette man desperately fumbled past the militia of canines to greet him. "Hey! Dr. Lecter, good to meet you in person. Sorry about my dogs, they're a little excited around new faces," Will said with a goofy grin, holding his hand out. Hannibal smiled warmly at him and took the hand into his own, firmly pumping it, unbothered by the animals that were sniffing his shoes as if they were laced with bacon. "Please, call me Hannibal. No need to apologize for animals being animals, Will. They're simply making sure their provider is protected." Will nodded, pleased that Hannibal understood. "Thanks, Hannibal. Care to come inside?" he asked, pulling the door back enough for him pass through. A smirk tugged at Hannibal's lips. "I appreciate it, Will." He stepped inside and followed the other man, who was all too eager to sit down and properly talk. After all, anyone who was kind to his dogs was more than welcome to come inside and sit, in his mind. Once inside, Will tried to pick up the dog toys from the neighboring chair closest to the fireplace but was stopped preemptively by Hannibal, who now held out a moderately sized box out for him to take. "We haven't much time, Will. Otherwise I'd love to sit and chat. Here's your outfit for the night - I asked Jack Crawford for your height and weight, so hopefully the measurements are precise." Will graciously accepted the packaged, only slightly bewildered by the fact that Hannibal had apparently had his suit custom-tailored. Under his watchful gaze, he tore into the package and removed its contents - only to pale at the sight of what lay in his hands.

A slick navy suit with matching slacks, a black tie and white undershirt made from thick, embroidered silk, all custom made just for his figure. "Holy shit. I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful suit," he nearly gasped, "how...how much was this? I didn't think the police had a very high budget." Hannibal cocked his head to the side, refraining from looking too prideful. "I paid for it from my own pocket. What the police provided - or tried to provide, rather - was atrocious." Will blinked slowly, unaware of how bashful he looked. But Hannibal noticed. Boy, did he. There was something wholly, incredibly pleasing about spoiling Will; and the fact that this wouldn't come close to being the last time made his cheeks flush. "Oh, I almost forgot - there's something else for you to wear. Here, please put this on." Will watched intently as the older man pulled out a small velvet box from his suit pocket, and opened it with a flourish that made his stomach fill with butterflies. "A...ring?" he asked quizzically, brows knit in confusion. Hannibal pulled it from the velour backing and held it out for the other to see. "Not just any ring. This ring will show the other members that you're there with me, and should be respected - and untouched." Will took it from him and examined it carefully, admittedly not fully listening to what the other was saying. A black band, thick, made from some sort of precious stone with a simple phrase engraved in mother-of-pearl inlay - _peccatorum sumus._ "That's Latin, right? What's it say?" he asked, turning it over in his hand. Hannibal smiled slightly, not enough for Will to catch, and said, "'Sinners are we'. The society isn't terribly religious, but the idea of being bound to one another through something that unites as all as humans is rather appealing, no?" Sin. According to Christianity, all humans were born into sin; whether one believed they were free of it or not was irrelevant to Hannibal, but there was something beautiful about it, about he and Will and all of the earth's population connected through what religious men considered to be pre-destined evil. The thought could send goosebumps across his skin if he thought about it for too long. "Huh. I suppose I understand." Will checked his watch, eyes wide. "Shit. I should get changed. I'll be right back, feel free to wait in the car if you'd like. I won't take long." Hannibal nodded and watched his form disappear down the hall, the small army of dogs happily following in suit. This man would be the end of him, he knew; but perhaps this was a worthy end? A self-satisfied smile graced his lips, and he let himself out, fine leather padding toward the waiting car.

The drive was fairly silent. Will had never been good at small talk, and Hannibal wanted to remain polite and didn't press much about his personal life or make any unnecessary comments, much to his relief. Hannibal had appreciated the silence for a different reason, however - though focused on the road, he allowed himself to gaze at his passenger who now sat in the very suit he had ordered for him. Will looked flawless; the fit had been perfect, just as he had hoped, and the slimming fabric left little to the imagination with every lithe movement. "That's it, huh?" Will asked, pointing to the large building that pulled into view. "Yes, that's it. We're here." The architecture was more than impressive; tall spires that reached well above dome-shaped rooftops lined each corner, with smaller landings jutting out from under them, a gargoyle perched atop each one. The shingles were dark green, more than likely copper that had long since been oxidized, and large, curved windows dotted each level. "Beautiful, isn't it? Neo-Gothic, made to replicate the old church style buildings of the 13th century," Hannibal said, motioning to the top of the building. Will nodded. He didn't care much for design, but he could learn to appreciate it from the way Hannibal's eyes lit up at the sight. Maybe he'd rent a book or two from the library of the basics of Art-Deco, just to have material for that meaningful conversation Hannibal had promised him earlier. To his surprise, the parking lot appeared rather empty; and Will finally began to feel at ease, assuming that maybe they would be left alone for most of the night - until they were inside, and his stomach dropped. The crowd was almost as large as the cavernous room they found themselves in, people incessantly milling about and talking, laughing, unaware of their presence. A large chandelier hang above them, that lay in-line with an expanding, extravagant marble tile pattern that formed a spiral in the center of the room, a massive grand piano being played directly in the center of it. Various Greek sculpture replicas line the walls, as well as tall, curved vases filled with roses, in one corner an overly long bar, flocked with patrons, in another a dance floor of men and women waltzing to the pianist's rendition of Beethoven's Eroica Dance. Will felt his head begin to spin. It was like an art museum and a funeral home for a king all in one, all of it far too much for him to handle. You don't belong here screamed in his skull. "Hannibal - I don't - I don't know if I can do this," Will whispered, chest tightening with every new breath. Hannibal placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and patted it softly, a reassuring yet firm touch. "Nonsense," he said, leaning to speak into his ear, "my esteemed guest deserves nothing less than absolute, exquisite pleasantry." He could feel the hairs stand on the back of his neck, Hannibal's hot breath and velvet words attacking every single nerve in his body.

"Hannibal, darling! It's been too long! Oh, and what precious little creature is this with you, my goodness!" An elderly woman in a long, sparkling cocktail dress with a mink collar rushed over to them, nearly spilling her drink with each enthusiastic arm movement. Hannibal smiled warmly at her and leaned in, replicating her by kissing each cheek as she did so. "Mrs. Alvarez, it's lovely to see you again," he said cordially, offering a small bow. "This is Will Graham. He's with me, tonight. Expect to see him more often." She fanned herself excitedly, already fawning over Will (much to his disdain, he hated being the center of attention), "Oh, how darling! It's been too long since you've brought someone, Hannibal. And might I say, such a cutie as well!" She turned to Will and took up his hand in her free one, shaking it vigorously. "How is Hannibal treating you, hmm? Spoiled to death, I assume?" she said with a large grin, red lipstick nearly cracking from the pressure. Will shifted uncomfortably. "He's been great - Dr. Lecter treats me like a proper gentleman. I'm grateful to be his friend," he stated simply, not daring to meet her eager eyes. She laughed at that. "Right, right, dearie. Well then," she turned to Hannibal, took a sip from her martini then continued, "I hope you enjoy yourself with 'Dr. Lecter' tonight. I'll want all the details later, of course." Hannibal nodded to her respectfully. "Of course, Mrs. Alvarez. Next week, over drinks. I'll be sure to spill all." She laughed and shook her head, pleased by his answer, and mumbled something to herself before leaving them by themselves again. Will let out a low groan, seemingly unaware that he had been holding in his breath for the entirety of the conversation. "God, is she...?" Hannibal looked to him. "Always like that? Yes, I'm afraid so," he said, motioning for them to join the crowd. He obediently followed, perhaps too close to Hannibal as to avoid having to make eye contact with anyone or - god forbid - talk to someone, silently thankful that the older man didn't seem to notice or mind his clinginess.

A short, rotund man immediately picked Hannibal out from the crowd however, and bounded over to them, a large grin spread across his portly face. "Dr. Lecter! What a quaint surprise!" he nearly shouted, pushing his spectacles up with a sweaty hand, the other shoved in his slacks pocket. Will looked to his partner. For the first time, Hannibal's expression didn't soften or change, instead nearly unnoticeably shifting into something...sour. "Thomas, what brings you here? Can't say I've seen you in a while," Hannibal said. His voice didn't change either. Anyone else would've dismissed his behavior as warm, inviting even - but to Will's intelligent mind, he knew immediately that by god, Dr. Lecter hated this man for some reason, and was acting out in what only Hannibal would consider to be as rude. Of course, this idiot wasn't aware in the slightest. "Say, Dr. Lecter - who's this gentleman that's accompanying you?" Thomas asked, jerking a thumb at Will, Hannibal wincing at his blatant lack of manners. "Will Graham. He's my protégé, and will be joining me hereafter as a club member," Hannibal said, a sickeningly polite smile gracing his lips. Thomas chuckled, nearly snorting, and Will could feel himself begin to hate this pig of a man too. "I've got my own 'protégé' now too, heh heh. Sweet little thing, fresh out of college. His name's Ben, the dear. Already got a ring, you believe it?" he said. The way he said it seemed almost as congratulatory as it was snobbish, clearly meant to try and rub salt in the wound he assumed to have caused Hannibal with the statement. Will smirked and held up his hand for the man to see, jutting it out almost maliciously. "Like this one?" he asked, spreading his fingers apart for the other to see. The unmistakable glint of the black stone caught Hannibal's eye, the sight causing something low and dark to stir behind his pupils. Thomas grimaced, seemingly defeated. "Why - yes, yes, just like that one." His gaze shifted to Hannibal. "Seems you've already leashed your prized bitch, eh, Lecter? Figured you would. Hannibal Lecter - always ahead of everyone, eyes knowingly claiming his prize before it's even up for discussion." The man looked angry enough to spit, but simply shook his head. "May the rest of your evening be bountiful," he said, walking off. Will was frowning now, brows furrowed, chest puffing out. "A leashed bitch? Like I'm some kind of dog? Shit - can see why you hate him," he hissed. Hannibal made a conscious effort to not smirk. "Mr. Spencer tends to have a rather bitter temperament - leaves him saying things he shouldn't," he said, "I'm sorry you had to witness it." He placed a hand at the small of Will's back, pushing gently. "May I suggest we get a drink?" he said softly, looking to the bar. Will laughed, admittedly fairly flustered by the amount of contact between them thus far that evening. "Or two. Or three," he said, causing Hannibal to stifle a chuckle. "As many as you want, Will. Or at least as many that'll make this outing more bearable today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work, so I apologize for any mistakes. I appreciate feedback :) The next chapter will be smutty, dark, and full of rich people bullshit. Enjoy.


	2. Bound by Sin, Kept by Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new sinful display proves Will's commitment to not only his job, but also Hannibal.

Those at the bar seemed less inclined to talk, thankfully; no one randomly recognized Hannibal or had pressing questions for Will when they sat down, the club elites too focused on themselves to care. The bartender greeted them, an almost plastic-like quality to his pleasant expression. He opened his mouth to ask Will something, but immediately shut it and turned to the older man once he caught a glimpse of the band on his finger. "My apologies, sir," he said, "how may I serve you?" Hannibal cocked his head curiously. "A scotch for me, please. What would you like, Will?" he asked, turning to the other man. Will's line of sight didn't leave the bartender, but replied, "bourbon for me, please." The bartender stared at Hannibal expectantly. "Scotch and bourbon, thank you," he said with a nod, the bartender immediately scurrying to fetch the requested liquor. Will frowned. It seemed like everyone would only talk to him through Hannibal first; he had attributed it to a simple matter of polite introductions, since he was the new guy after all, but something about Mrs. Alvarez, Thomas, the bartender, seemed...off. He ran his thumb over the smooth stone ring. What was so special about this damn ring, anyway? What was it that made Will more of an accessory than a 'treasured guest'? "Am I crazy, or are people treating us differently?" he asked, annoyedly smoothing out his tie. Hannibal shook his head. "It's customary that the elder members treat the new ones this way," he explained, thanking the bartender as they were served their drinks, "the members that have been here longer will always be treated like the 'leader' of the pack, so to speak." Will rolled his eyes and threw back the drink, for once not so concerned about being perceived as proper. All these rich assholes could turn their noses up at him all they wanted - as long as his cover wasn't blown, he couldn't care less. Over the lip of his glass, in his periphery, he could see a tall, slender blonde man dressed in a red velvet suit begin to approach him, and he could already feel the tension swelling in his gut. Not another fucking visitor - did these high and mighty cunts not realize the importance of solitude? Probably not, considering most if not all more than likely were surrounded by servants at any given moment, he assumed. "Mr. Lecter! Alfred Thorpe, second-in-command to my father, Edward Thorpe, head of Esteemed Art of Taste," the man said kindly, offering his hand to Hannibal and completely bypassing Will. Hannibal shook it vigorously. "Mr. Thorpe! To what do we owe the pleasure?" Hannibal said, leaning against the bar.

The young blonde smirked devilishly, aware yet ignoring Will's burning glare, and began to pace. "As you know, all new members brought in under an elite must be properly inducted," he said, talking animatedly with his hands, "if Mr. Graham here wishes to be your pe - protégé, he'll have to be willing to show his allegiance. Is he ready, I wonder?" Hannibal stood and placed a hand on Will's shoulder - almost protectively - and titled his head proudly. "Of course he is, the dear boy was practically born for this role. When's the ceremony?" Alfred clasped his hands together, nearly overjoyed by Hannibal's compliance. "Wonderful! Ten minutes, the lower lobby. You know the way, I presume? I'll see you there, Mr. Lecter." He turned to Will, eyes searching for something deep within him. "I can't wait to see you and Lecter. We haven't seen him induct anyone before. You must be truly unique to have such an honor." His lips curled into a smile that reminded Will of a wolf, teeth bared and ready to tear into his throat. It made him uneasy, to say the least, but suddenly the room felt heavy, the air thick, and he could've sworn his head was buzzing, and he wondered for a brief moment if his presence had made him both mentally and physically sick. Seemingly done being a creep, Alfred bade them farewell and took his leave, disappearing somewhere into the crowd from whence he came, leaving the two men to themselves. Will put a hand to his head. He wasn't sweating or anything, but for some reason he felt like he was on fire, almost feverish. Ignoring it, he took to his feet, the dizziness hitting him like a swift punch to the gut and causing him to stumble. "Fuck," he mumbled, steadying himself against the bar. "You alright, Will?" Hannibal asked, grabbing his face and looking him over. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said, brushing his hand away, face burning from how much this damn man cared, "just felt a little dizzy. Might've hit the bourbon too hard and stood up too fast, no worries. This ceremony - where do we go?" Hannibal licked his lips and looked to the floor. His face was unreadable. "Will, I need you to promise me something. You can trust me - and I trust you to not out me as being part of this undercover operation." Will looked at him blearily. Was the room getting darker? Or brighter? "Sure, sure. Whatever you need, Hannibal," he said weakly. "Good. This ceremony - it's unorthodox, to say the least. Just know that this is for the case, and in no way reflects our relationship. I only want the best for you, truly. Whatever happens, I trust you - will you trust me, too?" Will waved him off. He was barely listening. "Uh-huh. No hard feelings. Anything, I'll do it. I won't let Jack and the force down, or you, okay? Now let's go, huh?" he said, wiping his now-teary eyes.

Hannibal sighed, but took him by the arm and led him away from the prying eyes of the crowd. They entered into a dimly lit hallway (the door prior nearly hidden by a statue of Achilles), and Will tried his best to make out the faces of the passing paintings as some form of stability, that he wasn't losing his mind, but found himself only able to really focus on one thing - Hannibal, who was still holding him by the arm, leading the way. Hannibal was rather handsome; he had noticed right away the first time they met, but something about the candles that dotted the walls that cast such a warm, inviting light across his fair face made his stomach begin to fill with a torrent of angry butterflies. Which, added on to his new headache and deteriorating mental state, certainly didn't help in the slightest. After what seemed to be a never-ending hallway (reminiscent of a horror movie Will had rented and watched far too many drunken nights in) they finally they reached the end, where a large, demanding black metal door stood before them, intricate crosses and paisleys swirling around a lion-head style door knocker in the center. Hannibal straightened his back, then took the ring in the lion's mouth and knocked three times exactly. The door slowly creaked open, a tall man cloaked in a blood-red hood biding them entry. Will swallowed thickly. The man's face was too obscured to see, but he couldv'e sworn he appeared familiar. Everything was getting too fuzzy and heavy for him to really tell, head pounding. The two entered into a dimly lit room, a long iron hanging candelabra in the center of the tall ceiling setting the room aglow in a soft, orange-tinted light, velvet lined, black wooden chairs lining the cobblestone walls. They formed a circle, surrounding a singular item in the center - a spiked throne, carved from some sort of dark wood, covered in tiny patterns. It may as well have been a lump of coal to Will's blurred eyes, though. "Welcome, gentlemen. Good to see you still knew the way, Hannibal." The voice was low, almost guttural, but Will recognized it as the evening's earlier menace, Alfred Thorpe. "Seats, everyone." Will squinted to see a small swarm of men in the same red cloaks pool into the room, each solemnly sitting down at a chair until the circle was full, save for one chair. Lastly, Alfred entered, a thick book in hand. He sat down at the empty chair, the circle now complete. "Come sit, brother Hannibal." He beckoned him with a finger, then pointed to the throne in the center.

It was beginning to seem more and more like a horror movie at each turn, but Will, steadfast in his promise to both his partner and the force simply inhaled deeply and looked to the older man expectantly. Cult shit was normal for high class bullshit after all, right? Hannibal turned to Will one last time and patted his arm reassuringly. Don't be afraid, he mouthed, as if aware of his internal conflict. Will watched the best he could as he took his seat at the throne of thorns. Once situated, Alfred opened the thick tome, and began to read. "As we induct our newest brother, William Graham, we remember what binds all of us together - sin, not just of thought, but of worldly pleasures. This ceremony will show Mr. Graham's undying bond to he whom brought him into our fold - Dr. Hannibal Lecter - may he prove to be a most useful pet to the esteemed doctor." The surrounding men clapped heartily, each slap sending a shockwave through Will's aching head. Every booming word, every flicker of the candle flames - all too much. His knees began to weaken. "The ring which he bears proves this commitment - but a ring is not enough. Will shall now demonstrate the lengths at which he will go to ensure not just our secrecy and privacy, but Dr. Lecter's as well." Alfred closed the mighty tome, and pointed a finger at him. The wolf smile returned, and Will could already see his blood drip from the predator's teeth that bared at him. "Mr. Graham, approach Lecter, your provider, protector, and brother in arms." Though he could barely see, he obediently came to him, as if afraid of what might happen if he disobeyed. Though truthfully, he was afraid - his skin felt like it was burning, his stomach felt tight, yet the rest of him felt loose, disconnected. Nothing felt right. Yet again, he looked to Hannibal like he was the only thing in the entire universe. He licked his lips, subconsciously aware of the pooling heat in his lower half. Hannibal looked like a king before him. "On your knees, Graham," Alfred hissed. Will gritted his teeth as he sunk down to his wobbling knees, heartbeat throbbing in his ears. Hannibal looked down upon him, head propped up on one of hands, elbow on the armrest. He was smiling, an almost identical sinister snarl like that of Alfred's. He could see the blood drip from his teeth, too. Alfred and the other members were standing now, heads bowed. "Will, Hannibal, bound together by membership, kinship, and sin. This sin binds us all, but only one shall truly bind two individuals to one another - to partake in the pleasures of the flesh. Dr. Lecter, will you partake in this display of devotion?" Alfred asked expectantly. "Certainly." The word rolled off of Hannibal's tongue like sweet honey, honey that Will was prepared to drown in just for a taste. Will looked up at him weakly, vision wavering. "Hannibal? What does he mean by that? What did you agree to?" he whispered. Hannibal leaned down, taking his face gently in his hands. "Would you like to find out?" he purred. _Whatever happens, I trust you. Will you trust me, too?_

Will closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes," he said, voice almost inaudible. Now what happened next was certainly not what he had expected; to have been choked to death, stabbed, or murdered in any way would have been less shocking to his senses. Yet here they were, surrounded by strangers, and in less than a second Hannibal was upon him, teeth clashing against his as he kissed him hungrily, one hand firmly gripping the back of his neck, the other tangled in his curled brown locks. The feeling was surreal. Each touch, sweep of his tongue, pull of his hair - it all felt exaggerated, like he was in a state of extreme hypersensitivity, and he could feel himself melt into the kiss like his life depended on a drug only Hannibal could provide. When Hannibal broke the kiss Will whined at the loss of contact, mouth burning to taste more. It was horrifying to hear such an absurd noise come from his own mouth, but at this point Will felt very much drunk and didn't care in the slightest. It was clear as day now - he had been drugged, basic police training could tell him that much. But the way Hannibal devoured him so sensually made any sliver of care obsolete. "Needy, aren't you?" Hannibal hissed against him, and before he could respond a hand grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head up and exposing his throat. The predator's bite, fangs ready to sink into the tender meat, to rend flesh and immobilize the poor, compliant prey. Hannibal's mouth was upon him, biting harshly at the supple skin, not enough to break through but enough to leave dark, dominating marks. Will groaned at the pain, hand instinctively going to his crotch and rubbing wantonly at the growing shape. If he had been in a clear state of mind the image of himself doing something so intimate in a group of utter strangers would surely haunt him till the end of time, Hannibal knew; perhaps drugging him was as merciful as it was necessary for his compliance? Either way, the sight of him mewling at his feet, weak and completely destroyed by his touch like a proper pet made his cock twitch. Will moaned sinfully. Pleasure burned though his veins, blurring what little vision he had left. "Open your mouth," Hannibal growled. When Will took too long to register what had been said, he found two fingers shoved forcefully into his mouth, causing him to gag. "Open it," he demanded. Will whimpered and opened his jaw, and instantly his head was shoved down, Hannibal's thick, waiting member sliding down into the tight heat. He groaned loudly when Will choked back a gag. His eyes were watering at the intrusion, but the drug didn't allow him to care, and without thought he began to eagerly bob up and down, the older man's cock dripping with his saliva with every wet pump. "Fuck," Hannibal moaned, hand tightening in his hair. Will was such a good, good boy. Hannibal would have to give him a treat later. His eyes fluttered. He was close, Will could tell from the way he tensed his legs, and so he took his dick into his throat as far as he could go and moaned around it, the vibrations sending Hannibal over the edge. "Shit!" The hot, bitter liquid spilled down his throat, and Will pulled off with a wet 'pop'. He began to cough the semen out, when Hannibal grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to swallow as tears streamed down his cheeks. The circle of men clapped, Alfred the loudest out of all of them. "And so Will Graham joins our ranks as one of us, bound to our class by his display of devotion with the esteemed Dr. Hannibal Lecter! Congratulations, brother Graham. Not only are you now a member of the wealthiest of clubs, but you belong to one of the greatest, most respected elites. Never has someone had such a luxury," Alfred said jovially, to the cheering of the others. It was all gibberish to him, but when a loving touch held his cheek and rubbed the outline of his cheekbone, he couldn't care less. "You were so good, Will. I'm so proud." A gentle voice. Hannibal's, more than likely. He slumped against his legs, unaware of the discomfort in his pants caused by being denied release.

The other members chatted mindlessly, a cacophony. Everything seemed so far away, as if he was at the end of a train tunnel, everyone else at the opposite side. And then, all at once, it was silent, thick, black darkness enveloping him. He was out cold. He couldn't remember how he got home; he supposed it had to have been Hannibal, considering Will would never tuck himself into bed so carefully, often barely managing to get under the covers. For the first time, he had slept like a baby, finally free of a night of constant sweating and tossing and turning. His throat did burn, though, he noted. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. "What time is it?" he murmured, grabbing the alarm clock and squinting at the fading LED display. His eyes widened. "Shit, I'm gonna be late for work!" He tossed it to the side, dogs cocking their heads from the noise. They watched with little interest as Will scrambled to throw clothes on, fumble around with his shoes and nearly fall over, and curse every step of the way. "I'm sorry guys, go back to sleep! I'll be back later!" he hollered as he pushed his way outside, making a beeline for his car and nearly slipping on loose gravel. He was beyond lucky to be a cop, in this case. He had sped to work like a madman, thankfully not pulled over or rear-ended. When he finally made it to the station, he immediately sensed something was off. His coworkers eyes weighed heavily upon him, and he was suddenly flustered, hands fidgeting nervously in his pockets. He went straight to his boss's office, narrowly avoiding a conversation with Beverly Katz (a detective with a proclivity to talk someone's ear off, but genuinely meant well) and breathed a breath of relief when the door closed behind him, cutting off the prying eyes that trailed him. "Ah, Graham! Please, take a seat," Jack said, too focused on his monitor to properly greet him. Will swallowed harshly and did as he was told. "So, Will - tell me, how did the first outing go? Did you learn anything?" Jack asked. Had he learned anything besides how much rich people like to talk? He strained to think of anything else, but after drinks with Hannibal his memory was fragmented, and he didn't dare to try and admit that he must've gotten hammered. "They're all fairly open with conversation, but seem to only really refer to elder members, like Dr. Lecter," he said with a sigh, "no one talked to me unless they talked to Hannibal first." Jack nodded, and continued to type. "Well, can't expect too much from your very first time. Did Hannibal notice anything?" Will crossed his legs. "Nothing that I didn't already tell you," he said. Jack slid the keyboard away from himself and pushed against the desk to finally face Will. "Next time, be su- what the hell is on your neck?" He asked, face suddenly serious. "Huh?" Will asked, utterly lost. Jack grimaced. "You're telling me you don't know your neck is covered in a bunch of damn hickeys?" he said bitterly. He pulled his phone out and opened the front camera, and handed it to Will. "Look at yourself, Graham. You could've at least put on a damn scarf - the whole force is gonna see you enjoying yourself a little too much at these events and the whole operation is going to be canned. Is some little hussy really worth it?" he snapped. Will's eyes went wide with terror at the sight. Purple and red bite marks lined perfectly around his jawline, and up and down his neck. He looked like a whore. "Jack - I'm so, so sorry," he stuttered, hand flinging to his throat to try and cover his shame, "I didn't realize." Jack groaned and rubbed his face. "'Didn't realize', huh. You get a girl biting all over you, it's going to leave marks. Thought someone as smart as you would know better." Shame and embarrassment began to well in his gut. God, he felt miserable. "Go home, Will. Take a few days off to let those things fade. When you come back, there better not be a single damn spot on any part of you." He bit his lip and nodded. He was not about to cry in front of his boss. "Understood, sir. Thank you." He left the office, feeling more drained than before he came in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the smut wasn't written poorly, but bada bing bada boom I'm bad at writing. It only gets darker from here folks! As always, any helpful feedback is appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, so I apologize for any mistakes. I appreciate feedback :) The next chapter will be smutty, dark, and full of rich people bullshit. Enjoy.


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